


Better Things To Do

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bedside Vigils, Bim being a bad friend and then making up for it, Bittersweet, Caretaking, Caring, Dehydration, Despair, Eventual Happy Ending, Fainting, Fever, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Guilt, Headaches & Migraines, Help, Helplessness, Hurt/Comfort, Influenza, Medical Examination, Mid-Canon, Mistakes, Multiple Selves, Nausea, Oblivious, Panic, Phone Calls & Telephones, Public Humiliation, Realization, Self-Esteem Issues, Show Business, Sickness, Vomiting, Whump, compassion - Freeform, perseverance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 17:38:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14430735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: Yandere calls Bim for help at school, saying that he's not feeling well, but with Bim preoccupied with plans for his next show, he doesn't realize how bad it is and tells him that he ought to tough it out. How far will he go before he can't anymore?





	Better Things To Do

There weren’t very many things that could shut Bim down when he was working. He may not be the strongest or have the most consistent energy level out of the group, but he had the determination of a packhorse and he was proud to show it, never faltering, never fazed by whatever the outside world threw at him.

When he was in the zone, checking his scripts and schedules and timetables for the next show, brainstorming ideas, calling orders to the crew and telling them to “make it snappy”, the outside world consisted of anything away from the lights and the stage. He became _part_ of the stage and anyone that attempted to pull them apart would speak to nothing but his hand.

In this case, however, his hand had made the mistake of picking up the phone.

“Bim…?” Yandere’s voice was almost unrecognizable; it sounded like he’d swallowed a mouthful of sand just before Bim answered his call.

“The one and only,” Bim responded automatically, tucking the phone against his shoulder as he shifted through paperwork. He was a master at multitasking; he may as well make use of this time. “What d’you need, buddy?”

“I…d-don’t feel good…Need you t’come and get me…”

“Oh.” Already Bim could feel the sinking disappointment in his chest, backed by a slight twinge of resignation as his mind wandered to the hours of work he still needed to finish. A drive to and from Sakura University would easily swallow an hour and a half; he didn’t have time for that! “W-Well, how exactly _are_ you feeling?”

“M’ head hurts and it’s…kinda hard to breathe…M’ nose is too stuffed up,” the younger Ego explained shakily. Bim did his best not to let the pathetic note in his voice get to him, squinting down at the paper in his hands to keep himself occupied.

“Yan, do you think it may just be the sniffles?” he questioned, trying to sound encouraging and kind. “There’s a pharmacy on campus if you need something and you don’t want to miss a day of school; you’ve got some classes to catch up on, don’t you? Those credits won’t give themselves up to you on their own; you gotta keep after ’em.” There was a beat of silence on the other end, after which the showman concluded, “You think you can try and power through it, buddy?”

“…Yeah. I’ll try.”

“Good man. Let me know if you need anything, okay? Alright? I’ll see you later and we can talk about your day! Buh-bye.” Bim moved to set the papers down so he could hang up but Yandere beat him to the punch, ending the call without so much as a goodbye in return. He blinked at the dark screen for a moment or two, a bit taken aback, and then opted to let it go. Sometimes Yandere did like to sulk when things didn’t go his way so the fact that Bim hadn’t given in to his request had probably made him tetchy. Hopefully he wouldn’t still be holding a grudge when they saw each other at dinner tonight!

An hour and a half’s distance away, Yandere gnawed fretfully on his lower lip, biting back a whine as he clenched his eyes shut and tucked his aching head against his knees in the corner bathroom stall.

Bim was right, he tried to convince himself. He couldn’t expect him to take time out of his busy workday to come and save him; he may be one of the younger Egos, but he wasn’t a baby. Bim had better things to do and he needed to be responsible, prove that he could manage on his own. Independence and confidence were key; that was what would make him stand out from the crowd.

 _Bim’s_ always _telling me that. He’s made it big; he has to know for sure_. Yandere forced a weak smile at the thought and then gave up seconds later. Pulling faces just made the headache worse—but when he tried to take a proper calming breath, it caught, ambushing him first with a violent sneeze and then a coughing fit.

Underneath the disgusting fluids thickening in his throat, his lungs spasmed and burned, desperately begging him to get it all out so he could _stop_ and catch his breath. He kept coughing, trying to help them, but nothing would surface. As soon as he heard the bathroom door squeak open, however, he clapped his hands over his mouth, trying to stifle the next half-formed gags. His lungs had to wait!

“Are you coming or what?” one of his classmates called impatiently. “You’re going to be late!” Yan knew as soon as he tried to answer, he would choke, so he let the other wait for a few more seconds and then give up, the outer door swinging closed again.

For another few minutes, he stayed where he was, trying to muster the energy to stand. How he wished his senpai would come swooping in to take his hands and help him up, but he knew it wouldn’t happen, no matter how long he waited. Pocketing his phone, he lifted his heavy, aching arms, dug his nails into the bathroom wall tiles and strained, slumping against the wall to ride out a wave of dizziness as soon as he was upright.

As he stumbled wearily out into the hall, Yandere caught himself against the doorframe and wavered, glancing between the door to his next class and the door leading outside. A trip to the campus pharmacy…Bim was probably right about that too, but it would take a long walk to get there. He’d be even later for class than he already was; it had already been established that Bim would ask about what he had learned, that he was staying for the rest of the school day so he could _work hard_. Yet he doubted he’d be able to learn much with so much tension in his head from the congestion…

One of the other students happened to crack the door open at that point and as soon as he saw his love already perched at the proper desk, his decision was made. Senpai was already in class; he wasn’t about to waste another moment that he could spend basking in that sheer amount of beauty. If he happened to catch bits and pieces of what the professor was saying along the way, that would be enough to satisfy Bim.

Squaring his shoulders and snuffling stubbornly, he pinned his full attention on his senpai so he wouldn’t have to think of how his body ached as he slipped into class.

The first twenty minutes were mostly bearable; as always, he admired his senpai from a distance, leaning his chin against his hands and admiring the silky layers of hair. He’d love to sink his hand into it and see if it was as soft as he imagined; maybe it would be even _softer_.

Watching his senpai remain so focused on what the professor was saying, however, did make him feel a little guilty. So focused, so diligent…He needed to live up to that example. He let his eyes lazily wander toward the professor, trying to focus on what she was saying, but the words weren’t processing. The more he strained to listen, the worse his headache became. Rubbing futilely at the ache, he let his eyes close, relishing the coolness of his fingers against the heat in his temples. The sound of his name broke through the spell, however, and he jerked upright in his seat, blinking widely as the classroom swam.

“You’ve prepared your presentation for today, correct?” the professor repeated, her expectance visibly shifting to disapproval as Yandere’s eyes widened further in panic.

“I—I was supposed to…?” he croaked out, his skin prickling as he realized just how _awful_ he sounded. “I was—” He cast a helpless glance down at his desk, as if expecting the presentation notes to have appeared while he wasn’t looking, and then looked wildly around the room. How could he have forgotten the date, his notes, his PowerPoint? Everyone was staring at him— _Senpai_ was staring at him—

“I d-don’t have the presentation… _with_ me…” he stammered, certain that his cheeks were burning as red as his bangs. “Could I give it extempore?”

“If you’re prepared to describe what was on your PowerPoint in full detail…”

“I am!” he cut her off frantically, lunging hurriedly to his feet and regretting it in an instant. If he’d thought the classroom was swimming before, it was deep-sea diving now; he stiffened, swayed, and awkwardly caught himself on the edge of his chair, nearly tipping it over in the process.

“Are you quite well?” the professor demanded, sounding as if she were galaxies away. Yandere tried to pinpoint where exactly her voice was coming from, if she had moved from the front of the room or not, but the only direction he could find was _down_.

***

After helping the younger Ego make up his mind to keep trying, Bim honestly wasn’t expecting Yandere to call him again. When his phone interrupted him in the middle of a discussion with the lighting crew, he was already exasperated and seeing the caller ID only stoked that fire further. His overly cheerful tone was laced with a slight but sure note of tension as he picked up and announced, “Hey, Yan, I’m a little busy right now! Can I call you back?”

“Mr. Trimmer, this is the Sakura University Pharmacy, calling on behalf of one of our students who had you listed as his emergency contact,” a woman on the other end announced briskly. “Does that sound accurate?”

Shoulders sinking, Bim pushed his glasses up against his forehead so he could pinch the bridge of his nose. “Yes,” he sighed, waving away the lighting crewman and pivoting away to let them know that this would take a few minutes. “He called me a little while ago, said he wasn’t feeling well, but he told me he could get through the rest of the day!”

“Well, Mr. Trimmer, there was something of an _incident_ in one of his classes a few minutes ago—”

“Oh. Wonderful. Did he hurt anyone?”

The pharmacist paused at that and Bim could instantly sense her surprise that he hadn’t asked if Yan himself was hurt. “No,” she answered at last, gingerly. “He was going to the front of the classroom to give a scheduled presentation but collapsed on the way there. Some of the other students brought him here to the pharmacy and he’s—”

“Wait, what?” Spinning on his heel and hastily readjusting his hold on the phone, Bim sputtered agitatedly, “I—I’m sorry, did you say he _collapsed?_ ”

“You don’t have to worry, Mr. Trimmer; there wasn’t too much damage from the fall—a bump on the head and a bruised elbow—but he is pretty dehydrated. I think it would be best if someone came to pick him up. He did mention that your schedule might not let you get away, so if there’s anyone else you can send—”

“No, no, no, no, no, I’m on my way!” he cut her off again, hanging up and exiting stage right at the best dash he could manage without falling down the side steps. As soon as his feet hit the hall of Egos Incorporated, he lengthened his strides, jamming his phone in his pocket and calling sharply to Dr. Iplier in the kitchen. “I’m gonna borrow your car!” He was out the door with the keys before the doctor could open his mouth to protest.

Every red light he hit on the way to the school was like a slap to the face, pouring another gallon of guilt into his stomach. Breathing rapidly, he drummed on the steering wheel, trying not to let the self-loathing set in. It wasn’t working. This was his fault; of _course_ it was his fault. If he had just taken the time to _listen_ to what Yan was telling him, he would have been safe at home, sleeping it off by now!

The guilt was like gasoline; as soon as he slipped through the gap in the pharmacy doors and laid eyes on poor Yandere, it burst into flames, burning hot in his chest and making him feel almost as sick as his friend looked. The younger Ego was hunched in one of the pharmacy’s unforgiving plastic chairs, clutching a water bottle with both hands; the slight slosh and tremble to the water was the only indication they were shaking. His eyes were hooded and glazed, glittering feverishly in his colorless face as he stared off into the distance, hardly seeming to register Bim’s presence until he was immediately in front of him.

“Oh…h-hi, Bim,” he greeted thickly, ducking his head and coughing harshly into his sleeve. Each tearing hack was another punch to the gut for Bim, who stood over him with absolutely no idea how to react.

“Let’s…Let’s get you home, huh?” he managed in a strangled voice, gingerly reaching out and brushing a few fingers against his shoulder. “They’re giving you a sick day.”

Yandere made an inconclusive noise in response, shifting his water bottle to one hand and wrapping the other around Bim’s outstretched wrist. The showman let him, moving his opposite hand to grasp Yandere’s elbow and lift him out of the chair.

“Ow, ow—”

“Oh, the _bruise_ , I’m sorry—”

“It’s o-okay, it just stings a little…”

With both of them talking over each other and Yandere’s treacherous feet threatening to fall out from under him, it took a good deal of work for them to make it all the way back to the car. By the time they got there, Bim’s suit was damp and musky with sweat where Yandere had slumped against him. He did his best not to grimace, but judging by the whimpered apologies he offered, Yandere was aware of his distaste.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Bim assured him with difficulty as he maneuvered him into the car and slid the belt over for him. After bumping the door shut and finding his own seat, he continued, raising his voice to sound a little more optimistic. “We’re gonna get you all set up at home with a nice blanket nest, some tea and some classic romantic comedies; it’ll be just like a vacation and you’ll be able to sleep this off.”

“…Don’t think I’ll be able to sleep,” Yan admitted, slumping sideways in his seat so he could nuzzle his forehead against the cool car window.

“Then we’ll pull out the movies for a sleepless night: _Sleepless in Seattle_ , _While You were Sleeping_ …” Bim trailed off, glancing away guiltily as Yandere shuddered and sneezed wetly, rubbing his ticklish nose against the back of his hand. “C-Cover your mouth when you sneeze, Yan. This is the doc’s car; I’m sure he has a tissue box in here somewhere, if you want to look for it.”

“Too much effort,” was the mumbled response. Bim wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so he opted not to, fixing his eyes on the road for the rest of the drive.

Once they pulled up to Egos Incorporated, he risked a peek in the rearview mirror and swallowed hard. If Yan had looked peaky before, he was positively _green_ now, sluggishly pushing himself upright in his seat and pressing shaky hands against his face.

“Bim—” he hiccupped faintly. “I th-think I—”

Bim didn’t let him finish, scrambling out of the car and hauling the backdoor open just in time for Yandere to lean out and retch, his breakfast splattering over the asphalt. He gagged and spat, shivering convulsively for a solid thirty seconds before heaving again to bring up his lunch. His seatbelt was the only thing keeping him from falling out of the car at this point, something Bim was extraordinarily grateful for.

He knew he should be doing something more to help—holding back his long hair or rubbing his back, murmuring kind words—but he couldn’t bear to look, peering squeamishly up at the sky as he held the door open. If he looked, he would be sick too and that wouldn’t do either of them any good.

Once it seemed like Yan had committed to queasy, painful coughing and nothing more, Bim suggested weakly, “Come around the other way,” shutting the door and skirting around the front of the car to the opposite side. Yandere barely had the strength to stand, flopping like a ragdoll into Bim’s hands as soon as his seatbelt was untangled. “It’s okay. It’s okay, I’ve gotcha. Just gotta find your feet and then it’s a few yards to the house. Easy…”

As soon as they struggled into the house, Dr. Iplier took one look at Yandere and swore, moving to intercept them. “Hand him over, Bim, and let me see if he’s dying…”

It took Bim a few moments to register that his arms were now unoccupied as he watched the doctor escort Yan toward his lab. Unsure of what to do with them, he folded them tightly against his chest, pursing his lips as the scalding guilt clawed its way back into his mind.

 _I let him get worse. I_ made _him worse…He called for me and what did I say? “Sorry, not my problem!” I should’ve just gone when he first called;_ why _didn’t I just go?_

It felt like centuries had passed before Dr. Iplier returned, supporting a thoroughly exhausted Yandere during the shuffle toward his room. Bim perked up and took an instinctive step forward, opening his mouth, and the doctor cut him off, expecting the question.

“He’s got a pretty bad strain of the flu. He’ll probably be out of commission for two weeks, maybe three.”

Yandere did lift his head somewhat at that, making distressed, petulant little noises of disagreement. “I’ll get better, I _have_ to be better,” he pleaded, feebly pulling at his physician’s lab coat. “Don’t put me to bed for three weeks! My—my senpai—my grades—”

“—can wait for a couple of weeks, Yandereplier,” Dr. Iplier countered sternly, steering him into the bedroom. Yandere whined and pouted at that even as he found himself unable to resist tumbling into the soft comfort of his mattress. As the sick student sighed in understated relief, Dr. Iplier fished through his coat pockets and pulled a pill bottle and a packet of gel tablets out, setting them on the nightstand.

“You need to take these every four hours,” he announced, crouching so he could look Yandere in the eyes. “Are you gonna remember that?”

“I’ll make sure he does,” Bim ventured just behind him. Dr. Iplier glanced over at that, raising an eyebrow as Bim perched on the nearby desk chair, fiddling restlessly with his hands.

“You sure, Bim? I thought you had a show to prepare for.”

Bim swallowed, peeking past the doctor at his young friend. He was gazing right back at him, clearly trying to pay attention to his answer, but his eyes were glazing over, lashes fluttering as he started losing the battle to sleep. It seemed they wouldn’t need to dig out those “sleepless movies.” Bim forced a rueful smile at Dr. Iplier, emphatically leaning back in the chair and nodding.

“I’m sure. I have better things to do.” When he looked back to Yandere only a second later, he was already fast asleep, and Bim was left to wonder if he had heard him.

He had.


End file.
